The rain beat against the window pane
The birds had disappeared, ants the same
Who could say what the wiggly worms all did
Probably from the birds they all hid
As the wind's squall beat about the bush
My wife cradled singing "Shush"
Whispering she would like a cup of tea
It was the weekend so that meant me
So I put the kettle on to boil
Which was quite good for a weekends toil
I looked out onto out uncut lawn
And the overgrown flowers all forlorn
Baby now was sleeping happily
She returned him to his nursery
Then came back, I held her in my arms
Then I stole a kiss, such were her charms
So we sat there as the rain fell down
We drank tea, I saw she had a frown
"You want me, don't you?" she said smiling
As she unbuckled my belt, grinning
Image found at www.pixabay.com
My poem has someone inheriting a key as well! Not quite the cheeky ending yours has though! It would be just like a baby to wake right back up again. "Other people's" babies slept through the night, mine must have been eight years old before they did that! Maybe not that old, but it felt like it.
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